Chapter Sixteen

Suffice it to say that I had no intention of staying in the same vicinity as Clarice Faretra. When she discovered that she was set to marry Titus, that girl would bring the whole castle crashing down.

I decided to act upon Philippa’s permission to visit Nezira. It was something that needed to be done, anyway, so I might as well do it now rather than later.

I was able to make my way to the prison hall with the help of several guards. The guard posted at the prison entrance was the same guard who Nezira had possessed. He gave no indication of knowing me, so I assumed that he forgot all about what transpired that night when Nezira took over his body. The guard let me into the prison, and stood as a surveyor just beyond the cells.

I entered the now brightly lit portion of the prison that Nezira stayed in. The familiar sound of shackles clinked together as I stepped in front of the cell. “Nezira?” I whispered, low enough to where the guard would not hear. I couldn’t have him seeing me talking to a nymph. Then again, he was probably wondering what I was doing here in the first place.

The dryad’s figure, malnourished and dirty, turned to face me from where she lay on the floor. Her condition angered me—it was far worse than what it had been when I first met her in the prison. She glared at me from beneath long, blue lashes. “You again.” Her words were bitter with an anger I couldn’t understand.

“Why are you so angry with me?” I remembered the glare she gave me as she passed by after I saved her from the guillotine. “I saved you that day.”

She barked a laugh as she stood shakily, one hand on the iron bars of the prison cell to support herself. “You are an idiot.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to save you.” What an ungrateful creature! “I had to climb out of the prison and get through murderous naiads trying to drown me, you know. You could at least thank me for risking my life to save you.”

Nezira laughed that bitter laugh again. “You truly have no comprehension of who you are, Lannie Brackenbury. Your condition saddens me.”

“Well, you’re in no condition to say that,” I told her knowingly (and I had to admit, a secret part of myself applauded my intellect, though I silenced it immediately).

She grimaced at me, her pointed ears twitching beneath tangled black hair. “By petitioning my innocence, you put yourself in a world that will consume you whole. You are not prepared to face it.”

Her words sent chills down my spine. They reminded me disturbingly of what my father had said. “What do you mean? I can’t be prepared if I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about!”

Nezira sighed. “You… As of yet, I am truly unable to tell you who you are. But I can tell you that you must be prepared, Lannie.” She gripped the iron bars, her blue eyes piercing me with unnerving fervency. “Because of what you have done, they are now aware of you. You are not their main goal, but if you interfere with their plans in any way, you will undoubtedly be disposed of.”

I faced Nezira and lowered my voice even more. “Who knows? What plans? Nezira, if you don’t tell me more than ‘You’re in danger,’ then you can be sure that I’ll die because I wasn’t prepared enough.”

The nymph shook her head silently. Her gaze drifted to the door, then back to me. She ignored my requests and continued, as if she were in a trance, “Either way, I am of no further importance to this world. You, however…” Nezira chuckled suddenly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You are necessary for the survival of this world.”

My eyes widened. She was essentially saying exactly what Natz had been rambling on about: nonsense. “What are you—”

The sound of footfalls down the hall interrupted my question. I whirled to see King Gavin enter the prison, his sharp features grim. His brows rose in surprise—or horror—at my presence. “Why, Ms. Brackenbury! What in Aria’s name are you doing down here?”

“I—” I stumbled over my words. I couldn’t tell the king that I had been sent to speak to Nezira. Surely he would find that suspicious. “The queen gave me permission to visit the nymph, Your Majesty.”

He nodded, although he still looked slightly perplexed. Cicero Rauch exited the hall behind him. When the grey-haired man spotted me, he narrowed his eyes. As usual, his face was set into a disapproving grimace. “What is she doing down here?”

The king turned to Cicero, and I couldn’t help but notice that he fidgeted nervously with the silk sash around his waist as he spoke. “Nothing to worry about, Cicero. She’s just visiting the nymph, like I am doing.” He glanced at Nezira, who in turn spat a thick glob of spit at his feet.

I gaped at her. She had become feral, her bared fangs sharp and glistening in the torchlight. I tried to catch her attention and tell her to stop, but she was too focused on the men in front of her. She hissed at them and retreated to the recesses of her cell.

“I cannot fathom why you thought a creature like this could be innocent,” Cicero said in a proud, snobby tone of voice. He covered his mouth, coughing fiercely into his hand. The emissary must have been sick from all the yapping he’d been doing.

I clenched my fists. “It was perfectly obvious, given her shackles!” The old man didn’t heed me, though, as he twirled a ring around his finger absently, looking with disgust upon the imprisoned nymph.

The king waved a hand. “Let’s not cause tension here, Ms. Brackenbury. Now,” he began, “I came here to look at the prisoner before we make the decision.” He stared at Nezira with narrowed, calculating eyes. “Why do you think this creature is innocent?” the king asked me, his gaze still on the nymph.

The king was down here to evaluate Nezira before the execution! But what good would that do? And why did Cicero have to come down here? That darned perceptive old man would no doubt suspect my explanation if I told the king more than what was believable. “I saw her earlier in the slave market, Your Majesty.” Nezira’s gaze flickered to me—a warning gaze to stop. But this was my only chance to save her life. “She had shackles when she entered the banquet hall and she had shackles when she left,” I went about nonchalantly, stating it as if the whole situation was obvious. “The jesters were using her.”

“Is that so?” The king pinched the bridge of his nose thoughtfully, something Titus never did. “I will consider that when making the decision, Ms. Brackenbury. Thank you.”

Cicero was turning red, but the king either didn’t notice or was purposely ignoring the duchess’ emissary. “Ti—” Cicero abruptly cut himself off; his face was brimming with anger. “Your Majesty, it is blatantly obvious that this beastly”—Nezira growled at this—“creature was not forced into anything. Nymphs are lying, deceptive beings! We cannot trust them. Nor can we put our faith in her.” His gaze shifted to me, a glint in his eyes.

Why was he so desperate to sacrifice a nymph? And why did he hate me so much? “I’m not lying!”

The king held up his hand again. “Stop. Cicero, let us discuss this somewhere else.” He smiled at me. “I believe you, Ms. Brackenbury, so please trust me to make the right decision.” The king nodded to me, raising his hand in farewell as he exited down the hall with Cicero.

…trust me to make the right decision. What kind of crappy, vague request was that? That could have meant a myriad of things! I looked at Nezira, but she was still curled into a fetal position on the cold stone floor. What she had said irked me. I was essential to the survival of this world? A simple, introverted seventeen-year-old girl? That wasn’t possible.

I just wanted to be alone. I never wanted to be part of this world in the first place.

But then, I realized grimly as I stared at the imprisoned nymph, I have already been forced into the incessant turmoil of this world, haven’t I?

                                                ————————

“I am going to KILL you!”

I had just exited the prison to hear the voice of a young woman reverberating through the halls of the castle. It froze my bones, and I could have sworn I saw my breath cloud in a white mist. The storm outside did not compare to the ferocity that was raging through the castle now.

Clarice was angry.

I rounded the corner of a hall and stopped dead in my tracks. Horror seized my heart when I saw what was before me.

The Crown Prince of Aria was trying to drag himself away from the duchess’ daughter, who had obviously tackled him to the ground and was now proceeding to put him into a headlock.

“Get off of me, Clarice! I don’t know what you’re angry about!” The prince struggled on the ground as Clarice started choking him with her strong arms.

I paused for a brief moment, unsure of what I should do. There were no guards around to help. Titus’ amber eyes looked at me in desperation and I made my decision. I clenched my fists and braced myself for what I was about to do. “Clarice, get off of Titus!” I stalked over to the girl and grabbed her from beneath the arms.

She flailed wildly in my grasp as I dragged her off of Titus. “I will never marry you!” she shrieked with surprising volume and ferocity. I think spit actually flew from her mouth.

With great effort, I managed to get her off the prince. We all stumbled to the ground, panting. “What’s gotten into you?” I snapped at her angrily. “You don’t go around attacking the princes in Nor, do you?”

Clarice glared at me, recognizing my jibe at her royal family, but Titus intervened before it could go any further. “What are you talking about? We aren’t getting married.”

You will not tell the prince of this matter. Is that understood?

I breathed deeply, trying to calm my wreck of nerves. I was in deep trouble. Titus wasn’t supposed to know about this yet!

“Your stupid family conspired with my mother,” Clarice growled, practically baring her teeth at Titus as she launched herself to her feet. “And now we’re supposed to get married!”

I stood, glancing between the two Royals. Clarice was an image of bloodthirsty fury, while Titus was in shock. He stood. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said, you dimwit!”

Titus clenched his fists, narrowed his eyes. There was an unusual emotion behind his gaze that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Who told you this?” he asked.

“My mother,” Clarice said, giving a bitter glance in my direction. “And Lannie intended to keep it from me.”

Why, that little— I flinched as Titus’ gaze shifted to me. His eyes were like steel. “Don’t go putting the blame on me!” I cried. “The king specifically told me—” I stopped myself before I blabbered anymore. The king told me not to tell Titus about the marriage, but now the prince knew! How was I going to explain that to King Gavin?

“What did my father tell you?”

I took an involuntary step back as the full force of Titus’ gaze was thrust upon me. “No—nothing! I—”

“Did my father arrange this?” The prince’s voice rose as he stepped towards me. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with a savage anger.

For the first time since I had met Titus, I was…scared of him. His fury was nothing like Clarice’s. It was almost as if his anger was feral. I put my hands out in front of me in a cautionary manner. It would be okay. They’re just overreacting and being irrational, I told myself. Nothing to be worried about. “Titus,” I said gently, as if he would shatter. “I’m sure he was going to tell you himself, so that’s why he told me not to say any—”

I stopped in mid-sentence when I saw the change come over his face. He clenched his teeth and I could have sworn I saw something that wasn’t supposed to be there. His amber eyes seemed to glow with anger.

“It’s for a good reason,” I tried, although I knew it was a weak statement.

“No it’s not!” he cried in frustration. “I told him about this.” Suddenly, with a yell, Titus took his fist and thrust it at the wall, creating a gaping hole in the stone.

In the stone.

I staggered back in disbelief. Titus closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, panting. Crumbled stone dislodged from the wall as he slowly removed his fist, which was now caked with blood and dirt.

He just punched a hole in the wall. In the stone wall.

I glanced at the duchess’ daughter, desperately trying to confirm that I wasn’t seeing things. But Titus’ action didn’t seem to surprise Clarice. She simply stared at the prince, her fists clenched and her mouth set into a firm line.

If she was calm, I must have been seeing things…

Clarice crossed her arms. “Punching a hole through the wall won’t get you out of this, Titus.”

My mind was a rush of fragmented sentences and memories as I tried to process what happened. Is this what Clarice had meant when she called Titus dangerous? Did something happen between them to make Clarice hate him so much?

Titus must have seen my face, because his eyes widened. He glanced at the wall, at his fist, back at me. He backed up in horror. “Lannie, I—” Titus kept looking from the wall to me and Clarice. “I’m sorry!”

“Titus, wait!”

But my cry went unheard as the prince turned and disappeared down the hall.

                                                ————————

A/N: Hey everyone! As always, thank you so much for reading; if you liked this chapter, vote and/or comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

~ Katie